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Keminiscences 


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Hot Springs 


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(^^Laf-eh!or ,^Laugh-eh!) 


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By 


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Erwin E. Harder 


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17 5 WEST WA SHINGTON STREET 

CHICAGO 


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PRICE 35 CENTS 



PrtM or M«yM (I, MUlet Cp. W uiwB3 ' > 92S S. 0«4ibora St.. C<ih>*t* 



Copyright 1918 
By E. E. Harder 

{All rights reserved) 

Price 35 Cents 



• • • 

• « • 



Reminiscences 

of 

Hot Springs 

( ^Laf-eh! or ^Laush-eh!) 



By 

Erwin E. Harder 

CLARINET SOLOIST 



^ -^K 







Qin 



REMINISCENCES OF HOT SPRINGS 

( ^Laf — eh ! or 'SLaugh — eh!) 

4 « 




H! HOW I HAD TO LAUGH-eh^when the follow- 
ing* telegram was forwarded to me, while just 
emerging from the Vapor World of my Phantas- 
magoria "Owondlo" (A Fish Opera) : "Engage- 
ment good. Bring Bass Clarinet. Room free". 

Winter was beginning to make its appearance. Not a green 
leaf, no summer bird could be seen in the wooded surround- 
ings of Chicago. 

I availed myself of the opportunity and accepted the engage- 
ment. "Music is for musicians and not for fools." 

Mr. Noitall : ' ' Don 't you know that all musicians are 
bums ? ' ' 

"Yes, but all bums are not musicians/' 

I may be a fool, but whoever takes me for one, may be the 
fool. Foundation is the principle of all things, and principle 
is just the thing that most of the human race do not possess. 

You cannot buy genius, nor can it be acquired ; it is a 
hidden force or forces which are born in one and carried to 
another. 

At last I arrived at my destination, among timberlands and 
rising hills, or mountains as they call them, where an abund- 
ance of natural waters flow from curious fountains, hot and 
otherwise. 

I was taken to a room. No. 7, in a bath house, converted 
into a hotel, which represents the annex to a large hotel. 

An old carpet that had probably Iain there ten years with- 
out being removed caused general effects, etc. Being a new- 
comer, I did not wish to create a disturbance by having the 
room swept immediately. Now I had to ^laf — eh!( ^ laugh — 
eh). Later on I went into the main hotel near by. Here I 
was lost in wonderment over the beautiful parlor with its 



grand piano and elaborate carpet. Guests and summer birds 
from all parts of the globe were assembled there, some eying 
me curiously, others mysteriously, still others who were evi- 
dently recovering from a general spasm, undoubtedly super- 
induced by abusing nature, in a half flirting way. Then 
there were plenty of cripples whose faces only showed the 
hope of recovery. 

In the meantime my trunk found its way to my room in an 
unusual way, the lock being completely broken off. Prior to 
this it was almost like new. The inside showed that a par- 
ticular examination had been made, and in all probability by 
inspectors hoping to find liquor, secret papers or perhaps even 
a wireless apparatus. 

There were plenty of ''Fish Stories" turned about, and 
their sale or donation would be impossible in the condition 
I found them. After straightening out things as well as 
possible, I endeavored to take a nap. 

The wind was howling, windows rattled, the radiators sang 
a new song. I thought someone was playing on my portable 
reed organ. Every now and then I imagined somebody knock- 
ing against the door. 



\J I 




Finally I jumped up, examined my wood-wind family and 
found that a leak was evident in the lower extremity. 

After performing the necessary operation by a pad adjust- 
ment, the low T)\) (pedal tone) would respond. Then I gazed 
out into the surroundings of the towering hills and drew 
from this poetical place the colors of enchantment. Soon after 
I investigated some quarries and found, or rather discovered, 
a natural stone that straightens warped reeds. 

As it was nearing dusk I gathered myself and manuscripts 
together and hurried home. I rushed to the postoffice with 
papers and books sticking out of my pocket, and while on my 
way, suspicious characters commenced to make their appear- 
ance. Now, we all know that since our country declared war 
against Germany and Austria, a new mania (not Rumania) 
has come into life, namely that of suspecting spies even in the 
most harmless men. 

That evening as I began my engagement, suspicious char- 
acters appeared in my neighborhood, and very often I was 
stared at by these ' ' gentlemen. ' ' 

''All mortals sway like the tides, when restless waves their 
caps eject. They battle with the rising surf. No ill wind 
blows to disquiet the dreamer on the sands of time." 

I was well prepared to meet the annoying brood and waited 
for things to develop. 

Suddenly an anxious listener ( Azra, 1st liar) came up to the 
leader of the orchestra and wanted to know what kind of an 
instrument I had. He was informed that it was a ''Base" 
Clarinet, which is properly spelled "Bass" Clarinet. 

Thereupon he asked me where I came from. "Chicago," I 
replied. After a moment's hesitation, I told him that I was 
out on 1st base at one time, when a critic mentioned in a 
newspaper, "Base" Clarinet Solo tonight. 

This instrument is very seldom used except in large sym- 
phony orchestras or Grand Operas. I was taking the place of 
a cello player. When a pizzicato passage, or double notes, 
occurred, I would generally let the water out which lodges in 
the neck of the instrument. In this way I found out that 



saliva runs through the instrument in a river-like form and 
prevents water (saliva) from entering the holes and moisten- 
ing pads. 

As many strange visitors were always about, watching me 
eagerly, I decided to leave my room at three o 'clock promptly 
every afternoon and to come home at four P. M. This idea 
must have interested a curious one. For, one day, I left the 
door key (which was marked No. 16) that I always used to 
open my room No. 7 with, hanging on the key-rack, and locked 
my door from the inside with another key which I found lying 
around. I also placed a box against the door. Then I quietly 
left. During my customary hour's absence this curiosity 
seeker came and unlocked my door. The next day I left a 
note on my trunk and one in the bureau drawer, saying in 
it : ^ ' I know who comes here, I keep myself quite near. ' ' 

December 17, 1917. 

Dear Friend : 

Only a few lines. I am very much discouraged the way 
conditions are for musicians. Unless you belong to one of the 
cliques you can't get an engagement. The war has taken a 
number of musicians out, hence an opening for me in this 
nest. 

Here I play with one who renders concertos for clerks, tele- 
graph operators, stenographers and business men. Why! 
they should be played for musicians and get a tone and ab- 
solute intonation, correct phrasing and soul in playing. 

One day I brought one of my musical compositions along 
entitled "A Fish Story" (Part 1). "In the Trough of the 
Sea." Now, just as I had expected, the composition was 
poorly rendered. This was too much for the leader. 

I heard him make the following remark: "I'll have to 
change that and arrange it different" — (meaning differently). 
Now I let loose in this manner: "So, you want to change a 
work of art? I'm right here for the purpose to know the 
reason why — the psychological point, why ! ' ' 

This brought a look of surprise from the so-called professor. 
Thus I catch some of these "would-be" musicians, braggarts 
and artists who stamp their feet and swing the baton in a 
ridiculous way in fine overtures and selections. (One of these 



"gents," who closely resembles Napoleon the Great, struck 
me once in St. Louis, without any provocation, with his walk- 
ing cane, over my head which at the time was bedecked with 
a battleship and the American and our Allies' flags.) 

Our "professor" has several large scrap books and shows 
them to all classes of people. Now, I am giving the medicine 
to one, a foreigner, who about seven years ago wrote a letter 
to my brother in such a way as to insult me. I finally went 
home and spent a month there. When I returned, I almost 
lost my job, right in the middle of the season. It was a 
put-up job to keep the substitute. The musicians' union up- 
held my case. 

"In union there is strength." When I started to play my 
engagement he put up all kinds of hard numbers to stick me. 
The game did not work, I was there. I may be a fool, but 
whoever takes me for one, maybe the fool. 

Very truly. 




After becoming- settled in my strange abode, I noticed, 
through the crack of my door, suspicious characters moving 
about. Opposite my room, and all along the hall, the apart- 
ments were occupied by ladies. Near the entrance of the lower 
stairway stood an upright piano. This place in particular 
seemed to be an attraction for visitors. I was beginning to 
get nervous. So one evening I came home quickly and staid 
in my room for awhile without turning the light on. 

Now and then the occupant of an adjacent room came home. 
I would shake my door lightly and repeat the act several times 
gradually increasing the sound. Soon some lady opened her 
door, thinking perhaps some friend was coming. Shortly 
after, I again began to shake the door lightly. Then some 
other woman opened her door, exclaiming in a rather excited 
voice : ' ' Who is that ! ' ' Thereupon I would rap a little 
harder. This caused three roomers to open their doors almost 
simultaneously. "Did you hear anyone rap?" asked one of 
them. ''Yes!" said another. "I don't see anybody," added 
the third. 

Gradually all became still. Quietly I left my room with my 
wood-wind family and hurried to the hotel where many 
anxious visitors and onlookers were waiting for the orchestra 
to begin. I was not sun-struck by the many diamonds that 
flashed about me. 

The orchestra was seated in the center of the floor. After 
the first half of the program, I played ''Down in the Deep 
Cellar," a solo for Bass Clarinet, alternating with 'E\) Clarinet 
in the variations. 

Now and then I would pop up and play alone, "Down in 
the Deep Cellar." There were several characters about with 
lead pencils, presumably making a earicature or writing some 
one's history up. 

Suddenly I noticed one of my characters Azra (first liar) 
advancing in a hurry and motioning to his friend Curaz, 
(second liar) an anxious listener, to come out with him. Our 
program was nearly over. 



10 



As I arrived home, I found these gentlemen hanging about 
the place. I quickly took two curious looking satchels from 
my room and hurried mysteriously down the steps with a 
look of excitement and nervousness. 

Looking out of the corner of one of my eyes I noticed Azra 
and Curaz gazing suspiciously and rather dumfoundedly at 
me. When I was nearly a block away, I suddenly crossed 
the street, and while making a sharp turn noticed them 
coming along in a great hurry. In order to make my escape, 
I quickly entered the nearest hotel, and registering as "Von 
Kloppencamale, " I hid there for a short time. This game 
I repeated several times afterward. But the hotel in which 
I would eventually disappear had always been previously 
picked out by me for such occasions. 

After doing some very necessary errands, I went home. 
This day, Jan. 21st, was to become to me most memorable. 
For as I entered my room I heard water dripping from the 
ceiling, and when I placed a bowl underneath, the water 
came down in sheets. Soon the paper of the ceiling began 
to sink and took the form of a large bag filled with water 
(not wine). This was caused by the melting of the heavy 
snow that had from time to time settled on the roof. As the 
water was running about the ceiling it formed a caricature 
of the immortal Bach, which soon changed to that of Bee- 
thoven, who seemed to smile at me somewhat sorrowfully. 

I sat there dazed and in wonderment as I beheld this 
strange phenomenon. Suddenly the bag broke, and down 
came its immense contents. 

The roomers below must have heard the crash. 

I made several sketches of the quickly changing pictures. 
One of them resembled a wise old owl. 

— For those people who might think that this was only 
snow water, I purposely bottled and sealed up some of this 
rather mysterious water, to be used for future analysis, when 
the world has advanced in theory, and science. — 



11 



During all this time I' heard mutterings in the hall, pre- 
sumably uttered by my curious followers, who were gener- 
ally making their appearance late at night. 

Soon all was still, and I left the room in the hope of find- 
ing a pail. Suddenly I heard mysterious noises. I quickly" 
jumped into a small vacant side room, thinking one of those 
strange visitors might make his appearance. The door of 
this place had a narrow crack which enabled me to ascertain 
the cause of these enigmatical sounds. Here I distinctly heard 
rustling springs (not Hot Springs) and dripping waters. I 
also noticed that several other doors contained cracks. 

When all the lights had gone out invisible phenomena 
occurred. 

The next day as I came home about 11 :00 A. M. a plas- 
terer with a ladder was waiting for me in order to patch 
up the dilapidated plaster (curious phenomenon) which hung 
suspended from the ceiling. In some respects the plaster 
resembled Curaz. I did not leave the room, but watched and 
waited till he had the leak covered up. 

That same day I noticed that the plasterer had left his 
ladder standing across from my room, near a door,. and right 
above in this hall was a hole about three feet square, most 
likely an attic. The darkness which reigned up there would 
probably afford a good hiding place for Azra and Curaz, and 
at the same time enable them to look into my transom window. 

In the evening I left no light burning in my room. Azra 
and Curaz generally knew the time when I came home. I 
fooled them by going around the back way of the hotel. Here 
I crawled up on the fire escape which ran along my window, 
where I entered my room in order to see if they were up in 
the mysterious hole. 

After a while I noticed some objects move, the light in the 
hall reflected a trifle around the hole. It did not take me 
long to recognize Azra and Curaz. I waited for a half hour 
or so, in order to tire them a little, as in all probability they 
had no chairs up there. 



12 



I was ready to come out at any moment to take the ladder 
away should they begin to descend. 

Suddenly I left my room and g'rabbing the ladder, dragged 
it to my room and stood it against the wall near the place 
where the plasterer had previously performed his operation. 

After turning on the light, I climbed up to the place 
where my strange visitor (burglar or phenomenon) had en- 
tered, and wrote rather plainly, so that Azra and Curaz 
could observe it clearly from their nice hiding place, the fol- 
lowing motive there : 







Z^^'^^^^^-ci/T^a-^ 




Soon I turned the light out, left my room and went 
around to the rear of this building where I made my way 
up to my room on the fire escape again in order to get a good 

13 



look at the mysterious hole (attic) and enjoy the strange 
sounds emanating- thence. 

I found both of my anxious visitors up in the hole and 
could hear them mumbling and scolding. One of them, appar- 
ently a German, exclaimed: ^'Na, dis is da vorst terrible 
place I eber vas in. ' ' 

Then Azra cried, out of breath : ' ' My God, how will I 
get out of this place !" Now I had to |^laugh-eh ! ( '^laf-eh!) 
All this time I was gleefully watching their amusing display. 
Presently a gentleman who probably roomed at the other end 
of the hall came home. After listening to the funny noises 
he must have thought the place haunted. For he became 
quite nervous and was leaving his room again, when Azra 
and Curaz motioned for him to come to their aid. 

This frightened the roomer considerably, who evidently 
thought they were burglars. Azra was yelling : ' ' Ve up here 
and can't kum down." ''How long have you been up 
there?" asked the excited roomer in a curious way. "I, II, 
III dooon't know," answered Azra, and Curaz vociferated: 
"Get a ladder for us somewhere, please." Thereupon the 
roomer exclaimed: "You're in an awful hole and can't get 
out. ' ' Then Azra said : ' ' Veil, kum let us get out and avay 
vun here." 

Oh ! how I had to laugh-eh ! I hurriedly slipped into my 
clothes-closet, and then I certainly did ^ laugh-eh ! 

In the meantime the roomer had gone out, to look for a 
ladder, I presume. About fifteen minutes elapsed, and the 
roomer had not made his appearance yet. There was a con- 
tinuous mumbling going on by Azra and Curaz. It was rather 
hard for me to understand their low voices. 

All at once I heard : ' ' Zum dunervedder, I schump down. ' ' 

"You better not, it's too high," cautioned Curaz. Then 
Azra said : " I got da kramps already. ' ' Now I had to ^^ laugh- 
eh ! my, how I did ( J^laf-eh!). Soon I heard Azra saying: 
"Veil, he's coming." 

Then I thought if that were only I coming up with a hose 
and pouring a good stream of water on them, to wash the 

14 



cobwebs off their faces. They were certainly a sight. Oh! 
how I had to ^ laugh-eh ! Just as the roomer came up the 
steps with a foot ladder and placed it squarely in front of 
the mysterious hole, he found out that it was about five feet 
too short. My! how I did ^ laugh-eh ! ( '^laf-eh). 

Curaz looking rather hopefully at the ladder tried his luck. 
First he protruded one leg, then the other, then the first one 
again. I was thinking if I only had a flashlight picture of 
this scene. Finally he did reach the ladder. Oh ! how I had 
to ^ laugh-eh ! 

Curaz limped around a bit and appeared depressed. His 
partner shouted: ''How vill I get down?" It certainly 
was some hole they were in. I almost was going to ask them : 
"Do you think you will try it over again?" Cautiously 
Azra put forth one leg exclaiming: ''Dis is a risky ting 
to do." Then he tried his luck with the other one and ejacu- 
lated: "Mine Gott (God), I might fall." 

As he was fumbling around for a new hold, he slipped a 
trifle but soon caught himself. While hanging there sus- 
pended he cried out nervously: "Ver is da ladder? Ver is 
da ladder?" Then Curaz shouted: "Hang down straight." 
When I saw that he was at last getting back to earth, I took 
the plasterer's ladder out of my room through the window, 
went down the fire escape, dropped my encumbrance and 
hurried toward the front of the Bath House Hotel. When I 
was about ten feet from the entrance of this building, I saw 
Curaz and Azra with the roomer. The former were slowly 
limping along and mumbling. Seeing me they began to move 
along somewhat faster. Now ! you ought to have heard me 
i^laf-eh! ( ^laugh-eh). 

The next day I went around to the rear of this building 
and took a snapshot of the place. I noticed that the window- 
sill of my room was filled with icicles which resembled a large 
grey beard. 

The weather was beginning to brighten things up somewhat. 
The following day I moved away from this vicinity of ' ' Happy 
Hollow ' ' or rather ' ' Sleepy Hollow. ' ' I would call it ' ' Weep- 

15 



in^ Hollow," for every place I passed I heard dripping 
waters and imagined invisible phenomena. While I was on 
my way, I took one more glance at the rear and front of this 
hotel and discovered odd looking hats lying near the windows. 
Again I had to langh-eh ! I soon entered my new abode in 
anticipation of further surprises. Oh, my. How I did ^ laf- 
eh ( ^ laugh-eh ! ) . 



16 



CHAPTER TWO 



What a beautiful, sunny day for moving ! The air so pure, 
and the sun playing havoc with the many recent snows. 

I finally entered my new abode, a rather strange looking 
frame house, whose floor was clean and covered Avith a large 
rug. 

As I glanced about, I noticed a sign on the wall near the 
door which read as follows : 



' ' Christ is the Head 

of This House, 

THE UNSEEN GUEST 

AT EVERY MEAL 

THE SILENT LISTENER 

TO EVERY CONVERSATION. 



On the wall near my bed hung a picture of Christ holding 
a cross. It was very prominent. Around its sides and edges 
were small pictures or views, highly colored, and people sur- 
rounding Christ, carrying him to the place of crucifixion. 

That evening as I was on my way home, I passed along a 
curious stone church. I was dazed for a moment, bewildered, 
for the dripping waters in the various pipes around the sides 
of the church sounded like curious drums and fifes beating 
and echoing strange, weird chants. 

"Deliver me from all evil," I thought, when I had been 
introduced to a curious lady who became intensely interested 
as soon as she found out that I was the one who solves ''Fish 
Stories. ' ' 



17 



Full of enthusiasm she asked me where I had received the 
idea of writing- ''Fish Stories." To explain this I told her 
the following: 

' ' First I must tell you where I was born. It was in a small 
country town called Beaver Dam, which name perhaps was 
given on account of beavers constructing or forming a dam 
about ninety years ago. I was born on the upper end of the 
lake near the original dam. My father always wanted to live 
near a lake by its water edge in order to be able to catch 
fish and thus curtail the meat bill. 

He played a variety of instruments among which were the 
accordion, clarinet and violin. 

Our old home, a frame house which my father had built, 
was at one time, before I was born, a wagon shop, where he 
made and repaired wagons. One of my brothers who is 
seven years older than I, very often caught fish from the 
waters near our old home. 

My mother could not afford to keep a servant, and had to 
prepare the fish herself. I can see her to this very day pre- 
paring fish, and hear my father's tuneful clarinet and violin. 
This, perhaps, had branded me with ''Fish Stories." 

The good Lord Jesus Christ, our Saviour, performed mir- 
acles (according to the bible). He gave two fishes and five 
loaves of bread and divided them among 5,000 people. Now 
I am doing the same thing. For my Fish Stories represent 
poetry and music, and I present them to Kings and Queens, 
Lords, Nobilities, Prime Ministers, Generals, Congressmen, 
Famous Orators, Presidents, Czars, Consuls, Emperors, Gov- 
ernors, Ambassadors, Libraries, etc. If they wrap them nicely 
in covers they will most surely last a long time. 

One loaf of bread represents my Phantasmagoria, "Mer- 
man and Mermaid." (Owondlo.) Almost 1900 years have 
elapsed since the Lord was crucified, and the age of invention 
has crept on, until today you see that the submarine of the 
sea is like a fish, and that Friday is not the only fish day at 
present. 

18 



Therefore my play in a sunken ship is mythology com- 
bined with reality, (sunken ships). 

Harvest time is ripe, and I have to begin my work. Poetry 
and music represent all the emotions of life. 

Tell this to a philosopher. Would that be reincarnation? 
"I may be a fool, but whoever takes me for one, may be 
the fool." 

When I had finished, my curious lady who had been listen- 
ing to me very attentively exclaimed with great verve : " AVhat 
a wonderful story this is ! " 

Seeing that this kind-hearted lady was very much interested 
in my narrative, I reached in my coat pocket and drew out 
several drawings of the mysterious visitor who had entered 
my former room from the roof during the past heavy snow 
falls. 

' ' I should like to have seen this myself, ' ' was her comment. 

She became very curious and smiled at the sketching which 
resembled a ' ' Wise Old Owl. ' ' 

We were just in our glory, when a couple of visitors arrived 
upon the scene and interrupted us. 

Shortly afterward, seeing Curaz and Azra approaching, I 
bid her adieu. 

The next day when I came to the hotel, my curious lady 
was sitting on the porch. As she greeted me very pleasantly 
I seated myself near her. I took from my pocket a piece of 
literature entitled ''A Fish Story" and told her that if she 
wanted to see the original strange visitor who had entered 
my room on '^ Weeping Hollow" avenue, I would try to 
arrange the matter and let her view this strange phenomenon. 
I asked her to give me her telephone number and added that 
the strange visitor was at present wearing a white mantle. 
(A coat of plaster.) 

Suddenly and without any reason her countenance changed, 
and she became agitated. Then the thought struck me that 
Curaz and Azra in all probability were at the bottom of this. 

19 



''My good lady," I said, "I hope you are not insulted," 
and left her just when Curaz was making his appearance. 
Then I quickly whistled the last part of my favorite motive. 

On the following morning my two old friends, Azra and 
Curaz, were sitting in the lobby. They were eying me closely 
from behind posts. The orchestra was seated up about six 
feet on a crude platform in a corner surrounded by many 
pots of various flowers which were made of cloth. My view 
was excellent. Occasionally I would play on my clarinet part 
of my usual motive. 




"Let me in!" 

Not far away from me sat a lady eying me also very closely 
and speaking mysteriously to some other visitor. Later on 
she was with a party of people standing in the center of the 



20 



lobby who were evidently enjoying themselves. Soon a 
stranger came up to the orchestra and partly bending over 
said: "I want to see the clarinet player." He directly 
came toward me with a rather stern look, nodded to me and 
informed me that he played the clarinet and wanted me to 
fix his mouthpiece, as it did not respond freely. He took a 
seat near me, and we conversed in a subdued voice. He wore 
a small button, similar to those of secret service men. I 
showed him my clarinet mouthpiece and case. 

During this time the curious lady was standing in the 
same place with her party of friends. Her expression changed 
suddenly, and she became uneasy and eager to go away. She 
evidently thought my strange visitor to be a government 
officer. 

Now Azra and Curaz changed their positions and began to 
eye her. Occasionally I reached for a sheet of music in 
order to get a good view of them, at the same time playing 
my usual motive. Then I would duck behind the pots of 
flowers. Oh! how I did ^laf-eh! ( -^laugh-eh!) 

Shortly after the ladies slowly departed and entered the 
elevator, but not the freight elevator which the musicians 
and colored help had to use. 

Curaz and Azra went up the latter. Now I really did ^laf- 
eh!( ^laugh-eh!). Soon my strange visitor departed saying: 
"I room on the top floor. What is the number of your room?" 
said I. "I don't know, but the boys will show you the place," 
he replied. I bid him cheerfully goodbye. AVe were all 
happy in our corner at this moment, when as usually without 
"fail," Fehl, the viola player, remarked "Der Harder hat 
wieder den schnabel im bauch, der musicians' union spass- 
vogel," meaning "He has some invention again, our musi- 
cians' union fun-maker." 

We soon left the place after I had performed "A Fish 
Story" on my clarinet, which caused many smiles, especially 
when my fish were gasping. I assured them I could give a 
complete performance on my portable reed-organ. 

21 



I then went to the desk and inquired for my mail. The 
clerk told me : ' ' We '11 put your mail in box 602. ' ' I did 
not say anything, and looked toward the place where the 
orchestra keeps their mail, and where mine also should have 
been. There was no mail in any of the numbered boxes, 
only keys. I had the right key, musically speaking, as I 
whistled my usual motive on seeing Curaz and Azra passing 

by. 

I went to the other hotel where I had played before, in 
order to have my mail forwarded. While there, I left a pic- 
ture of a fish in a certain box. Oh ! how I did ^laf-eh ! ( ^laugh- 
eh!). (This fish had at least 1,400 scales.) (There is a cer- 
tain " I^ake" in. New York supplying a "Fis'her" with sea 
food, who seems to be greatly interested in ''Fish Stories" 
and delights in utilyizing motives not belonging to him.) . The 
day after, who should sit on the porch of the hotel where I 
played, but my ' ' Curious lady ' ' looking askance at me. I in- 
formed her, as she seemed to be looking for trouble, that I was 
in a hurry and had important business at present with Wash- 
ington. Just then Curaz and Azra passed by. I quickly whis- 
tled my motive, and left for a visit to the tower of the build- 
ing, the musicians' quarters (the attic), where I delivered some 
photos to the boys to cheer them up. Not a single picture was 
hanging in any of the rooms to elevate the spirit of the musi- 
cians, if they possessed any. But there were plenty of beds. 
In one room were three of them and one window, no running 
hot and cold water^ the doors and walls badly cracked. A 
good home for spiders. When one considers these "lordly" 
accomodations and the "magnificent" weekly salary of $18.00 
to which not a cent can be added by extra playing, it may 
easily be seen what a desirable position this is for a good 
musician. The view of the Ozark Mountains was excellent, 
but it soon became monotonous to most of the musicians. 

I had previously presented the leader of the orchestra with 
some of my literature, and while I gave the pictures to the 
boys, he suddenly made his appearance and began an argu- 
ment with me regarding my writings, using the most profane 

22 



language. He even took off his overcoat ready to fight me. 
Now I had to ,^ laf-eh ! (laiigh-eh ! ) . I said to him : ' ' What I 
gave to yon was a work of art." He roughly exclaimed: ''I 
know — but ! " ' ' And you, ' ' said I, ' ' will not prevent me from 
writing more books." Full of fury he then exclaimed: ''If 
you do, I'll punch the devil out of you." This brought a 
number of musicians on the scene. One of them cried smil- 
ingly : "He took all our pictures, didn't you get one too?'' 
Again I had to ^ laf-eh ( ^laugh-eh). 

I went about n\y business delivering pictures. Presently a 
distinguished-looking gentleman appeared and gave the leader 
a cross look. ''My, how I did '^^ laf-eh! ( ^laugh-eh). Later on 
I met the drummer (a plumber). He said to me: "What 
do you think of such a gink? I was good enough to play this 
job for several months. Now he discharged me peremptorily. 
I will report him." 

As he began to move his traps away, an inquisitive flute 
player came up to me and asked me : ' ' How many reeds have 
you made so f ar ? " " 602, ' ' I replied, ' ' not 606. ' ' 

Shortly after my curious lady passed by, just as the clerk 
handed me a letter from Washington which contained the 
copyright of "The Great Unknown." 

During a rehearsal for a Sunday evening program the 
leader remarked that the flute player was very sick, and 
lying in the hospital in a plaster paris casket (meaning plas- 
ter paris cast). A visitor, pointing to me, asked him: "Is 
that the musician who was lying in a plaster paris cast?" 
You ought to have heard me ^ laf-eh ! (laugh-eh !) . Strangely 
the expression on the leader's face changed. He sullenly 
answered : "It was the flute player. ' ' In the hallway stood 
Azra and Curaz. I was enjoying myself watching them, but 
they soon disappeared with a morose look. I also saw there 
my "curious lady" who looked rather sulky. 

A few days later I boarded the train, homeward bound. 
While bidding my friends goodbye, I gave them a few "Hot 
Springs" jokes. My, how we all did ^ laf-eh ! ( ^ laugh-eh !) . 

23 



A Work of Art 

Symphonic Poem No. 2 

(Solo for Organ) 
By 

Erwin E. Harder 
175 west washington street 

CHICAGO 



LIBRARY OF CONGRESS 

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"WORLD'S LARGEST GENERAL MUSIC HOUSE." 



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and 

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